


Like A Shooting Star

by Nyronigon



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gay Love, Love, Mikyx is very shy, Multi, but he's very cute, first fic, school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 12:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18223193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyronigon/pseuds/Nyronigon
Summary: Mihael was not the most popular in his school, nor even the most detestable. He was a teenager who had experienced so much love disappointment for his age. This year, love would be for him a sweet dish that he would refuse to taste. But it was without counting on the arrival of a certain Rasmus who would make him change all his plans.





	Like A Shooting Star

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Comme une étoile filante](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18220880) by [Nyronigon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyronigon/pseuds/Nyronigon). 



> Well, hello, I suppose? Sorry if I'm clumsy or something like that, I'm just uncomfortable speaking in English >_< So this is the translation of my fanfiction "Like A Shooting Star" into English for foreign readers. Besides, my English is very bad, but I did my best for this translation. Then I hope you will enjoy it!

In a sewing room of a secondary school, not far from the Pâquis district, there was a meeting between students. The latter each represented their respective classes. Among them, a young man had a long and tired sigh. Her short brown hair, barely combed at the front, was illuminated by the sun's rays, which also illuminated her milky skin. He readjusted his square-framed glasses that slowly slipped over his flat nose. A slight purplish pocket appeared slightly before his eyes as black as jet. A long sigh escaped from him pink lips.

The speeches of the two teachers in the room deeply annoyed him. Not because they were not interesting, but only because he had already heard them last year. And to think he could have played his favorite video game, League of Legends, instead of hearing this informations again. Nevertheless, he had to do so to give himself a good image in the elections for the delegate of his year. He was aiming low, because deep down, he knew it, he wanted to become the school delegate again.

He sighed again.

Fortunately, his buddy, Luka Perković, was keeping him company. The latter had tried to become the delegate of his class, but unfortunately for him, he had faced the young man with the glasses sitting next to him. His oversized ego didn't help to digest the defeat, but since he was a friend, he still had to congratulate him - a very rare thing to point out. As the teacher's speech ended - finally- a small snack was organized by the teachers on this day of training for class representatives, the only interest for which several of the students had come.

The teenager with dark circles took his due and got ready to join his buddy but was interrupted in his walk by a slight laugh. A tiny little laugh unusual enough for the teenager to give him interest. He looked in the direction of laughter and was surprised to find a young man who - he wasn't going to lie to himself - was charming. At least, enough for his fragile heart to miss a beat at the sight of his light brown hair, a few strands of which were rebelling. Him hazel eyes seemed full of malice, while her pink lips showed a radiant grin. Him small snub nose shone slightly because of the sun's lights, while at him matte-skinned hand was a piece of bread with a barely crunchy square of chocolate.

This teenager laughed with a girl our protagonist knew from afar, since they were classmates before. He approached the scene and listened to the discussion with a distracted ear. From there, he learned a little more about this young man. Two years separated them that’s why the teenager who wearing glasses felt older. But most importantly, he seemed surprised, as he looked much older and more mature than other people of his age.

"Damn it, are you sure you're not in my grad?" he thought out loud.

Fuck, he was noticed. Nevertheless, he kept smiling to appear natural, even though in his head he imagined the thoughts of his transmitter. Thoughts where he would see the speaker as a psychopath who was spying on people's conversations. But, for any answer, he laughed dumbly.

"I guess I look older than my age.

He presented his hand before him.

"My name is Rasmus. Rasmus Winther."

"Mihael" he squeezed his hand "Mihael Mehle"

He smiles stupidly, before continuing the discussion for a short while. Mihael took his phone out of his pocket and he realized that he would soon have to leave. If he didn't leave, he'd miss his bus to go home. Why the hell did life always give him bad timings? He sighed for a long time, before greeting his new acquaintance and leaving the building.

On the way, he disentangled his earphones before plugging them into his phone and starting his playlist. With a Taylor Swift song in his ears, Mihael continued his way to a bus stop, and took the one that came. On the bus, the scene of him meeting the charming Rasmus came back into his head. He imagined what his life might have looked like with the help of the few personality samples he had had. He always did that, for any encounter. His imagination always needed to be active. So, when nothing came to mind, he would observe the people on the bus, and assign them a story, a completely invented life that was probably out of step with reality.

But that was the fun with imagination: you could create lives, intertwine them, build relationships, make rivalries and all this with a simple face and a sample of personality. Fortunately, Mihael could channel this imagination with a simple pen - black, because it was very important to him - and a notebook. Of course, his stories would be unreadable because of his deplorable handwriting, but he didn't care. After all, he wrote for himself, not for the others. Maybe it would be rewarding for him to have an opinion on his "works", but well, he was far too shy to show them to anyone

After about thirty minutes of waiting, he finally arrived at his destination. He got up from his seat, went to the nearest door and, once the bus stopped, the door opened to let the teenager out. A few steps further was his building driveway. Once he arrived at the right door, he dialed his code on the keypad, and when he heard a slight "click", he pushed his only obstacle to his home, and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. Out of his pocket between two breaths, he took out his key ring, took the one he thought was the right one, inserted it into the door lock, and unlocked it.

He could hear his dog's little barks from afar, and he immediately turned to him to ask for a few caresses. A little smile came to fall on his lips. He knelt, before giving his pet what he wanted. A large hall was in front of him. And right at the end of that hall was a glass door. He opened it, now finding himself in his parents' room, both sleeping in a closed point. At four o'clock PM. As usual. His dog lay on a corner of the bed, towards his mistress. The TV was still on. He went to the latter, pressed a button on the side of the TV and turned it off. Curiously, his brother did not deign to show a sign of life. Usually, Mihael would hear his younger brother yelling on the TV in their room or talking to his friends too loudly. But no, not a sound. He went to his room and discovered the heavy emptiness of the room.

His brother was out. Obviously.

Of course he should have known, because anyway, when there were no racket in their room, it was certainly because his little brother was doing God-know-what outside with his friends. The eldest shrugged, and instead of studying for his future exams, he went to his desk, sat on his seat, turned on his computer and found himself playing his favorite game for hours on end: _League of Legends_. He could have met his buddy Luka on the game, who kindly offered him a duo-q, but the Slovenian had declined his offer, wanting to deepen his game mechanics. In a corner of his head, while he was playing a game with an excellent AD carry, he was wondering if the teenager from earlier - Rasmus - was also playing on the invocator's flaw. Between two parts, a petty smile appeared on his lips. And now his imagination was trying to visualize what kind of champion Rasmus could play. And those until the sky turns a beautiful orange color.

*.*.*.*.*

            Mihael was bored. It was nothing new since on Mondays, he had a boring history class with a soporific teacher. However, he was interested in the subject because it was the main one involved. He was working on the Russian revolution, but despite this subject, he could not stop his eyelids from closing. Even Luka Perković, a Croatian by birth, was asleep at the last minute. From the corner of his eye, the teenager could see the hands of the clock moving slowly, so slowly. Why did the seconds have to move so slowly? But while the teacher was giving instructions about the next lesson, the bell rang and freed the students in the class from this boring and deadly class.

            Mihael left the building and headed for his lonely little corner. But on the way, he crossed paths with the same teenager he had met at the first assembly of delegates. What was his name again? He didn't remember much about it. Nevertheless, he knew he had to communicate something to him about the next meeting. And suddenly, the shyness of the League of Legends player resurfaced. Why was it his job to give him the damn information? Couldn't someone else have done it? And suddenly he remembered his goals: to become the school's delegate. How could a delegate afford to be shy ? What image would he show if he didn't dare to communicate a simple indication?

            He pulled himself together, headed towards Rasmus' group of friends - he could recognize a blond man he had met last year, Martin Larsson if he remembered correctly - and patted the brown man's shoulder. The latter turned to the teenager the glasses, looking stunned.

            "Can I talk to you for a second, please?" asked the video game player.

            His interlocutor nodded, before the two withdrew to the side so as not to disturb the small group. The fragile heart of brown could fail at any time from now on. However, he did not give up and communicated the information. Rasmus, behind his smile, looked serious, and grabbed the information. Information related to a celebration that would take place around mid-December. As the discussion was coming to an end, his interlocutor gave a little laugh before leaving to join his friends. That laugh... he had never heard that kind of laugh in his life, and he thought that that little sound was adorable. The Slovenian gave a little funny nasal sound, accompanied by a little smile before the bell rang to announce that it was time to go back to school.

            As he climbed the stairs to his class, his heart was pounding in his chest. He was thinking about that little magical moment he had experienced with Rasmus. In his class, while the teacher was giving his math class, Mihael was floating on his little cloud. He felt strangely well, as if this short moment was his antidepressant, his savior in the tsunami that was his life. But he came down very quickly, because his memories of last year came back to him to spoil his little moment of happiness. To get him back to reality.

            Last year... what a shitty, messy year. In his Latin class, he had to meet Kasper Kobberup's eyes. His gaze reflected a grey sky with a few soft rays of sunshine shining on his energetic personality, and a little silly at times. His dark brown hair that the League of Legends player thought was beautiful. At first, he thought he had a simple crush, and let pass the many laughs he had with him at times. He had let the calmer moments pass between the two of them. The confidences, the few patting on the shoulder, as well as the moments of hanging out. He had let it all pass, absolutely all of it. To the ski camp.

            This ski camp that had made a lot of changes. Mihael desperately thought that everything would go well. That he'd have fun and have a good time with his friends. And he was right to believe that. Until that shit on Thursday night, that last night's shit at the hotel with a little party for teenagers. The evening had started well, however. The DJ would play popular music, and they would dance with the girls - the only ones who had got up to dance. The Slovenian had therefore, in order to have a good evening, forced the boys to dance. And it had worked. So yes, until then, he had had a great time.

            Until that first slow crap. Duos were forming on the dance floor, and Kasper had little trouble finding a teenage girl to dance with. And that was when Mihael sat in a corner. It was when he saw his crush and this girl dancing to the rhythm of the soft music that he understood something. He had fallen into the trap of love and was in love with Kasper Kobberub. But he realized it late to do anything. Then, without even saying a word, he left the room, in tears, his heart in tatters.

            He had spent the whole evening crying. Even his roommates, Chres Laursen and Martin Hansen, could not console poor Mihael, who kept crying in his pillow. The next day, he had spent the last day of camp elsewhere, with an impassive face, without the slightest trace of emotion. And on the way home, a lonely tear had rushed down his cheek as he listened to romantic songs.

            After a weekend, the news had fallen on his head: Kasper was in a relationship with the girl from the camp. But unfortunately, this girl was in her class. And Mihael couldn't help hating her. Hate that she tried his luck with his first heartache. And in the afternoon, when he saw Kasper clinging to his new girlfriend's shoulders and kissing her right in front of Mihael - to think he really wanted to drown him in his grief - his heart broke even more.

This is how he experienced his first real heartache. Two weeks later, the couple separated, leaving a bitter taste in the throat of the broken heart. Later that year, he had a new crush. It wasn't new, the fact that he crushes anyone. All we had to do was be nice, give him a little attention and his heart would get carried away. Even at the beginning of the year, he had a crush on Luka, which did not prevent the two people from the east from building a strong friendship later. But the problem with all his crushs was that he felt each rejection too strongly. Then, as the year progressed, he closed himself up, no longer paying the slightest attention to the first person who came along.

            After that disastrous year, he thought that he would never want to experience such a thing again next year. But that was without Rasmus. But he wouldn't have his heart so easily. Not after so much love disappointment. He returned to reality, fixed his exercise sheet, took a pencil from his pencil case, and started working. Work to forget your pain. To keep his brain occupied until the image of the other delegate's smile is completely erased. It was better to erase everything to avoid being disappointed again.

            Because he got tired of been disappointed.       

            The moon was shining over Geneva on the night of December 12. Mihael, dressed in a white plaid shirt, was on his way to his destination. His school stood in front of him, as well as a small line to the basement entrance. He presented his student card and placed five francs on the table before entering the building. The dark room shone only with a few multicolored flashes, while music bounced between the walls. Around him, many groups of teenagers danced to the rhythm of the sound. He was called by a group, and he joined them. It was his buddy group. But it was better to put the word "buddy" between quotation marks, because he considered them just as knowledges.

            As the evening progressed, a strong smell of alcohol attacked his olfactory space. No matter what adults were forbidden to do, teenagers always managed to break them. But when he was offered a glass of brandy, he declined. He wasn't really into alcohol, not like everyone else. He remained very wise, wishing to keep a minimum of lucidity. But that was not everyone's thought, since he lives far away, Rasmus' group enjoy this drink. And it seems that Rasmus is also not too keen on this kind of fantasy. But Mihael didn't know it, wanting to enjoy the evening as much as possible rather than have a broken heart. So, he tried to dance, to forget last year, to forget Kasper once and for all in order to turn the page and finish this book with far too many chapters. But he couldn't do it, the past messing up his mind.

            He decided to go outside, to ventilate his mind. He admired the stars in the cloudless sky. Suddenly he was seized by a question: how many stars were there in the universe. Hundreds? Thousands? Millions perhaps? Then he did something completely stupid: he lay down in a quiet place, in the grass to count them. He admired them for a long time. Long enough for someone to notice his hiding place. He turned his gaze to the person, and marked Rasmus' face in the darkness, always with the same stupid smile on his face.

            Destiny was definitely on him.

            The youngest lay down next to him, and in his turn, he admired the sky. Mihael turned his nose toward. Mihael turned his nose towards the elongated body of the one who was squatting in his space, smiled stupidly, before joining Rasmus in his contemplation. Everything was done in silence, only the boom of the party in the distance and their breathing broke the silence. Suddenly, as he turned his head towards the "intruder", the question he had been asking himself since the beginning of the evening came out of the Slovenian's lips.

            "In your opinions, how many stars exist in the universe? "

            Rasmus turned his face towards his speaker, always with this grin at his lips, and he responded, half-amused.

            "I don’t know. More than billions maybe?"

            And from there, a discussion around space began. It was quite funny to see that both knew a lot about the subject. Many questions were asked throughout the evening. Is there life on another planet? Is the earth flat? What would aliens look like? Would it have a single eye with several tentacles? And would that eye be able to launch a laser? To these last questions, Rasmus laughed.

            "That’s funny. I have already see somewhere your description of aliens."

            He punctuated his sentence when he got up. He was closely followed by his interlocutor. Rasmus explained that he had to go home, otherwise he risked being scolded by his parents. Mihael nodded. And as the youngest was about to leave, he turned to the Slovenian, and said to him with a huge smile.

            "By the way, my nickname is Caps, in the rift."

            And he left. By the time the information reached the brain, he understood. He understood that he was gently, graciously, slowly and miserably falling in love with the little Caps. And he knew full well that his heart would break into a thousand pieces again. So, on the days that followed, he tried as best he could to avoid the hazel look of the one who had won his heart. But it was much too hard. He kept running into each other, intertwining and seeing each other. Fortunately for him, the holidays were fast approaching, and he could finally be a little calmer, without his heart missing a beat every time he saw the youngest's face.

            During his holidays, he cursed his imagination. He cursed her for being so productive in his sleep. Hated to make her play mental scenes with her crush. He hated himself for having a heart so easily reachable. And the holidays didn't help with the same questions him parents always asked him.

            "And where are you with the girls Mihael?"

"When do you bring us a girl back to the house Mihael?"

"Aren't you tired of staying home? Don't you want to go out and meet some pretty girls Mihael?"

He was tired of hearing the same crap. And it wasn't as if he had said, subtly, that he wasn't interested in girls. So, he spent days like that, repeating a scene where, delicately, he would caress Rasmus' face and kiss him. He was crying and wanted this scene to be real. That he has someone who would care about him and comfort him as much as possible. May this person soothe his heart. That this person is Rasmus.

He dreamed of it so much.

But his fucking fear kept him from trying anything with him. For fear of being disappointed again.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

            What was he doing there? Mihael asked himself this question over and over again, as he moved forward shouting stupid slogans about the climate. His school had decided to get moving so that students could participate in this climate event. This subject was particularly relevant to him, since he had been mobilizing against global warming for some time. So, when his blond hair buddy Martin asked him to participate in workshops to raise awareness on the subject, he immediately agreed, with the vain hope of not having Rasmus' class.

            Not only did he get it, but the youngest one kept winking at him so that he would notice it. It was very cute, the Slovenian thought, before putting his iron curtain back on his face. He had to be impassive, otherwise he would crack. And when he came out of class, as red as a tomato, he had been given a few questions from Kasper.

            Yup. Kasper. The same who broke his heart the last year.

            He had managed to put his past behind him for these activities. They wouldn't be as buddies as they were when they first met, certainly, but at least Mihael didn't pout at him about that kind of story. And that was why he did not mention the questions of his old great love.

            And now, he was in that crowd of people, demonstrating for the government to change things so that global warming would stop. But the Slovenian, as mentioned above, did not feel comfortable here. And he was about to leave the demonstration, when suddenly he looked back and saw Rasmus' eyes. He came with his friends. And that was the reason why Mihael stayed until the end. He yelled, laughed, and walked until he ran out of legs. He wanted to give a good impression to the one who had won his heart. And it seemed to attract Caps - yes, he had remembered his nickname, because when we were in love, our memory space freed up space for information about the loved one.

            Thus, he learned that Rasmus came from Denmark, that he lived in the Pâquis district - how amazing - and that he loved orange juice. This last information was useless. But who knows? If one day he had an appointment at the local café with the Danish, he would know what to order for him. And as the smell of drugs mixing with alcohol entered their nostrils.

            When he returned home, exhausted by the demonstration, he went to his computer, launched the League of Legends launcher, hesitated for a few seconds. Maybe it was a bad idea? For a moment, he resigned himself, before gathering all his courage to look for the pseudo "Caps" in the players' search bar. He then discovered a player of the midlane, having recently reached the rank "Diamond III". Just that. And to think that Mihael, or rather Mikyx, was struggling to stay in the "Diamond" ranks, his... friend (?) was progressing on his side. Without even thinking about it, he added it to his friends, and turned off his computer.

            He couldn't play because it was Friday night. And every Friday night, he had a violin lesson. He looked in one of his drawers for a desk that he set up and, once that was done, he looked for his scores grouped in a blue notebook in his drawer. The Slovenian took the instrument out of its case and tried to tune it before the doorbell rang. His dog barked, a sign that he had to be opened. He carried his violin under his armpit, held the sleeve, and walked to the front door. Mihael opened the door and found his teacher at the landing.

            The student greeted him, while letting him in. They went through her parents' room where her mother was still watching television to get to her room. The teenager lent his instrument to the adult so that he could tune it. While the latter was trying to tune it in pizzicato, the Slovenian looked for his archer in the case and handed it to his teacher. Once the violin was tuned, the student was ready for his lesson.

            They began with simple note-finding exercises with the left hand, scales, arpeggios, ascending and descending. The goal was for him to be able to locate the notes on his instrument. Then they began to play music slowly. A calm, relaxing music. A cannon. A canon that the violinist was playing alone for the time being. But he could hear at his side the notes of a cello playing the bass. Not far from him, another violin was repeating the notes he was playing. And lastly, a piano whose notes were used to accompany string instruments. And without even knowing why, he saw at the controls of this Caps piano, always with a proud smile on his face.

            “Excellent, Mihael, excellent” complimented his teacher.

            Excellent, to say the least. Until now, he had performed at the worst catastrophic, at the best mediocre. But this time, it was beyond his expectations. He set the date for the next class with his teacher, before accompanying him to the exit and greeting him. He quickly returned to his room, and unlike the other Fridays, he still played his instrument, always as melodiously as in his lesson, and always with this little quartet he was mentally creating. Was it because of Rasmus that he played like that? Was it thanks to him that the desire to play an instrument came back to him? Maybe so. Probably even. In any case, his brother kept complaining that he couldn't play at his video games because he made too much noise. But the violinist didn't care, he had lost the desire to play for so long now that he was afraid, so afraid, of losing her.

            Rasmus Winther had succeeded in destroying the iron curtain. This iron curtain that was built by Mihael Mehle, the man with a broken heart.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

            Spring was coming, and as his big exams had passed, Mihael was having coffee with his few friends - including Marcin Jankowski and Luka who was always staring at each other from the beginning. They loved each other, you could see it from Pluto. And yet, the little brown boy needed to readjust his glasses because he couldn't see that the one, he coveted wanted it too. Mihael took a sip of his coffee. Normally, he would have sighed before being cynical. But it was his reliance on his strange good mood. He waited quietly while his friends tried to find a way to declare their feelings to each other.

            As he drank another sip of his coffee, he saw from afar the person he was waiting for. He saw his brown tuft wandering in the wind, as well as his cute smile.

            "Well, guys, it's not that I don't like you, but move on to another table," ordered the Slovenian.

            The blond was about to retaliate against him, but when he looked at what was happening in front of him, he understood. A smirk appeared on his lips, before taking Luka by the arm and moving on to another table, still with that red tone on his cheeks.

            "The place is free?" asked Rasmus, looking amused.

            Mihael smiled at him and nodded. He ordered orange juice and hot chocolate from the waitress, and the two teenagers started talking about everything and nothing. But the most common topic in their conversation was pop culture. They could talk about the _Marvel Cinematics Univers_ and then talk about the recent release of _Star Wars VII_. But if there was one passion that both shared, it was probably their love for video games. One linked them: _League of Legends_.

            They could talk for hours about this game, the changes that were taking place, and the professional leagues that were being formed around the world. To talk about the incredible level of Koreans, and even about an illustrious midlaner who had set his name in stone in the history of eSport. As the sun reached its peak, the two new friends greeted each other and the youngest left for home. Mihael's heart was racing, while from the corner of his eye he saw Luka and Marcin hugging each other.

            Spring definitely confirmed his status as the love season

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

            Mihael played his favorite game by making a few comments and indications to his microphone. You will have understood, he was not playing alone. In his ears, Caps' voice was telling the support what to do in the teamfights. And the first thing Mikyx noticed was that the midlaner played excessively well. So much so that it sometimes made it possible to do some barbaric actions. But hey, it was part of his joking personality. There was also a peculiarity that he had noticed over the games: he sometimes played champions who had absolutely nothing to do on his line. But not only did it work most of the time, but he also carried his entire team with this kind of choice.

            The teenager's screen displayed the word "victory" in large letters. He stretched, tired of all these parts. That's all they'd done since the beginning of the afternoon of that Sunday. He looked at the bottom of his monitor: ten o'clock in the evening. He made a little noise of surprise, stunned. They had been playing all that time. He explained to his friend that he had to go to bed, otherwise he might fall asleep during history class the next day. But it was without counting on Caps who minauda to do another last one, a very last part. Obviously, he was going to accept it! Who wouldn't crack at the request of the cute Danish voice?

            And here they go again for a new round of games. Some raging because he could do absolutely nothing, and others where he was close to ecstasy. All this mixed with some delusions and jokes of the midlaner, who managed to fix the smile of the support and make it miss some actions. And when his monitor indicated that it was six in the morning, he cursed the youngest one inside for having taken him into that unwanted sleepless night. His answer was only Rasmus' irregular expirations. And all of a sudden, all his hatred was exchanged for a strange feeling of candor. He felt his heart beating so fast, but still managed to hang up the call.

            He gathered his last strength to take a shower, get dressed, pack his things and go to his bus stop. The Slovenian fell asleep on the bus until he stopped. He went down there, walked for a few minutes. Once in front of his school, he went to the lower level of his school. Since last year, he had been visiting this place with his friends, while the bell rang to announce the start of classes. When he arrived, there was always Luka and Marcin, as well as Laure Valée, a friend he had been seeing for quite some time with his entourage. But it seems that the little couple were engaged in attention demonstrations by cuddling and kissing in front of two young singles.

I mean, single....

 "So, how's it going with Rasmus?" asked the teenager with an innocent little smile. »

Mihael blushes like a peony. That was also a flaw that the Slovenian hated about him. Every time he had a crush on someone, I could assure you that his whole class would know two weeks later, or at best, a month later. He was unable to keep a secret. But was Rasmus a secret he was trying to hide? Definitely not. He replied to the curious woman that it was progressing, step by step. But that he was afraid to go for good. Laure sighed, desperate. Even if the teenager had succeeded in making friends with the Danish, he was still shy. Everything was slow, slow, and long because of its invasive shyness.

"You have to hurry," she imposed. Otherwise, you risk getting your place stolen.

And from then on, he realized the thing. Someone could have captured the young midlaner's heart. Someone could have done it - like Martin Larsson, for example. But no, no one had done it. Was Rasmus repulsive? No, I really don't. All the girls would have liked to spend a night with the Danish. So maybe he was waiting. Waiting for the Slovenian to make the first move. Let him make a declaration of love until he no longer has a voice. The bell rang, and the small group went up to their floor.

During history class, the teenager with glasses could have fallen asleep, not caring much about the Second World War. But no, instead, he wrote on a line sheet. That sheet of paper that was drowning in the ink of his pen. Deletions and sentences were tied together to create a silly poem. But the fact was that yes, Mihael became a fool when he thought of the little Danish face. He became a fool when he wanted to caress the cheeks of the one who had imprisoned his heart, to put his lips against his own. He put all his desires on his sheet. Even during the break, he broke his head finding rhymes, and getting everything into alexandrines. The second ringing sounded, the time for a pause was right.

That was the perfect moment.

He took his leaf with him, went to a remote corner, their remote corner, and found Rasmus there. He was there, earphones in his ears, on his phone surfing the Internet. The Danish looked up at the Slovenian, took off his headphones, and smiled at him.

Forget his poem, he had to go.

Then, quickly, Mihael took his courage with both hands, took in his hands the midlaner's head, and gently pressed his lips against his own. And in his head, it was a mess. He surfed on a wave of happiness, while the cannon he had trained on his violin was played on a beach not far from him. And the wave quickly turned into a tsunami when Rasmus intensified that kiss. For once in his life, he felt so good. So much in its place. But unfortunately, he had to interrupt to catch his breath, even though he could exchange all his oxygen for kisses like this. He put his skull against his... lover's skull? Friend, because something was missing to define it as such.

"I love you," he mumbled

At these words, Rasmus smiled again - that smile that Mihael had now had - before pressing his lips against her lover's again. They were sailing alone on a sea of happiness. This sea belonged to them now. In the head of the Slovenian, they were the kings of the world. And they could even become kings of the summoner's rift, if that were Rasmus' wish. Because like a shooting star, he could grant any of his lover's wishes.      


End file.
